The Widow's Son: 10. Fire in the Open

The storm had been gathering for weeks, but when it broke, it broke hard.

By Monday morning, the whole town knew.

Not just whispers in pews or cruel jests at the market and on the streets. But loud words, sharp and accusing, carried on every porch and corner. The widow and the son. Ungodly. Shameless. Sin incarnate under one roof.

Caroline heard it even through the farmhouse walls, carried on the voices of neighbors who had once brought casseroles and comfort but now brought only poison.

"Who would have imagined it", they said. "And poor old Mr. Hart was a very likable fellow. See how his so-called family are desecrating his memory when he is not quite cold in the ground. Such a pity!" 

"A pity?" another asked, enraged. "More like a shame!" 

Still, she dressed.

She pinned her hair. She fastened her pearls. She stepped into the dining room. She knew it would make them talk even more but she didn't really give a damn anymore. They we